Part Ten
It had been a long time since Angel had slept in anything besides a bed or couch, and now that he didn’t have that luxury, he remembered just how sucky his homeless transient days were. Every damn time he attempted to roll over his head hit either the fucking coffee table or the base of the couch.
“Tough sleeping?” a soft, scratchy voice asked. Angel rolled over and found that Faith was gazing down at him from her comfy resting spot on said couch.
“This damn carpet is chafing my ass,” Angel answered wryly. He was rewarded by a smile and soft laugh. “How are you feeling, Faith?”
“Like some demon chick tossed me out of a third story window and sent me crashing on top of a Monte Carlo.”
“Actually it was a Taurus.”
“Oh.” Pause. “I’m not a car person. Still hurt though.”
“I imagine.” For several moments Faith peered down at him over top of her pillow. Not knowing what else to say, Angel asked, “You hungry?”
“Not really.”
“Liar. Why do I hear your belly rumbling?” Faith only answered by blowing some hair from her eyes. Angel was amused by the action. That one act somehow made him imagine Faith as a 12-year-old girl, laying in bed on a Saturday morning, and doing much as she just did because she didn’t want to climb out of bed.
“Let’s go in the kitchen and get you some food. No offense, but seeing you the past few days with ribs showing hasn’t been all that intimidating, regardless of my bound and tortured state.”
Every single joint in Angel’s body popped when he tried to sit up. For a fleeting moment he thought about redirecting to the bathroom and sitting in a warm bath full of Epsom salt. But Angel scratched that. Faith needed to eat and so did he. Plus, now was as good a time as any to talk to her.
In the kitchen, Faith climbed up and sat down on a stool at the island counter and watched Angel putter around the kitchen. With her legs swaying back and forth and dressed in nothing but one of his oversized white t-shirts, Angel once more pictured her as a young girl waiting for mommy to finish breakfast.
He knew that likely was never the case. Sandra Burton, from his findings, had been an alcoholic and possible drug user who lived in one of Boston’s seedier sections. Faith had likely never experienced many of the childhood luxuries. Well, she’d get one now.
“I’m in the mood for chocolate chip pancakes,” Angel mused. He reached into the cabinet and retrieved a box of batter mix. He saw Faith grin as she chewed at a fingernail.
“Chocolate chip? Really?”
“If we have the chocolate,” Angel acknowledged. From the fridge he retrieved eggs, milk, and ultimately, a bag of Nestle chocolate chips. He held the bag up proudly and elicited a child-like giggle from the girl. He quickly set about to create the batter.
Faith watched him intently so he moved to the side so she could get a better view. Maybe she was vaguely worried he might try and drug her food. Or maybe she was just amused at the sight of a 250 year old demon making chocolate chip pancakes.
Once Angel started pouring the batter, Faith fidgeted in her seat and pulled at the edges of her shirt. “How did I get into this?”
Angel glanced over and noticed Faith indicate to the shirt. “You can thank Cordelia for that. Once we got you home, you were pretty much out of it. She cleaned you up and treated that head wound of yours.”
Faith felt the back of her head. It still pulsed with a dull pain. “I guess I should thank her for that.”
“I think that would be good.”
There was a long pause. “I’m sorry for what I did to you. I’m sorry for everything.”
Angel stared down at the cooking pancakes. “Do you truly mean that or are you saying it because you think you should?”
Again there was a long pause. “I do mean it,” she decided, “but saying it really isn’t enough, is it?”
“No,” Angel answered honestly, “it isn’t. I do forgive you because I do feel you are truly sorry for everything you’ve done. But not everyone you’ve hurt will do so. I’m fairly certain the police are not going to forgive you for killing a man.
“Faith, if you want to be forgiven, if you want to atone for what you have done, you need to learn how to forgive yourself first. It’s a hard thing for beings with a conscience to do. Believe me, I know. You can never do it completely, but if you can do enough to continue functioning then that’s a start. Once you do that, you can learn to change, to better yourself, to become something more than some shell of a creature whose only impulse is destruction. Do you want to be something, Faith?”
The answer was quick. “Yes.”
“Then prove it.”
When the pancakes were about done, Angel once more reached into the cabinet and retrieved the maple syrup. He stuck the bottle in the microwave long enough to warm it up.
“I trust you can serve them,” Angel began. “I hear rustling in the bedroom. I’m gonna see how everyone is doing.” He retrieved a plate and handed it off to the hungry Slayer. Hobbling from the kitchen, Angel quietly stepped down the hall to the bedroom door. After knocking gently he was allowed to enter.
The first thing Angel noticed was Adele laying on her back in bed. Clad in a tank top and blue and white striped boxer shorts, Angel could plainly see the bruises marring her skin. But thanks to her half demon status, the bruises looked far older than 12 hours. That meant they should be gone fairly quickly, possibly by tomorrow morning. The cut along her face seemed to be nearly gone. Adele would be pleased about that.
“You look like shit,” Angel stated bluntly.
Keeping her eyes shut, Adele answered, “Thanks, Angel. I’m a sucker for your pretty words.” She grunted and groaned when attempting to sit up. That didn’t work so Adele simply resigned herself to spending the rest of her life in bed. Now if only the Willow chick were around she’d be all set.
“I feel like every bone in my body is broken.”
“No, just the one in your head. But cheer up, the other girl looks pretty bad, too.”
Adele perked visibly. “Is that right? Is it presumptuous to pray that I inflicted a fatal injury? If not, I’ll settle for a ruptured spleen. Perhaps a punctured lung?”
“Sorry, besides being a charter member of the Black and Blue Hall of Fame, Faith is up and about. You want me to bring you some pancakes before she gets them all?”
“Sure, why not?”
“Okay.” A long pause. “I’m going to help her, you know.”
“I know. I’d be disappointed if you didn’t try.”
“So no lingering desire to do her bodily harm? I’d like to have her body healthy as well as her mind.”
“I’m sure the urge to bitch slap her with a frying pan will subside shortly. But I got your back, A-Dog.”
The bedroom door opened up again as a damp and towel clad Cordelia waltzed into the room. He hadn’t even heard the shower running. Good thing, too. Because the thoughts he was having right now were very bad. And damn Adele for saying what he was thinking.
“Shit mamacita. You’re looking fine. How about slipping back into this bed with me?”
“Pfft! In your dreams!”
“That’s a given.”
Cordelia gave the one finger salute before eyeing Angel expectantly. “Think you could leave? I told you once you can’t watch me shower. The same goes for the getting dressed afterwards part. We’ll be out to help with Faith in a minute. Now shoo!”
Before Angel knew what was happening, he was unceremoniously ushered from the room. For several long minutes he merely stared at the door that had been slammed before him. Towel clad Cordy was in there.
“I need a shower,” Angel murmured.
***
It was more than slightly surprising that a fight hadn’t broke out yet. From the kitchen, as Angel sipped on a glass of blood and Cordelia shoveled pancakes into her mouth, the pair could easily watch Adele and Faith sitting on the couch watching a Lifetime movie. Both of the girls focused on the movie, but on occasion, snuck sidelong glances at the other.
“So what did you and Faith talk about earlier?” Cordelia asked around a mouthful of pancake. She also seemed to have an eye cast to the television set. Angel suddenly realized he was drowning in a sea of estrogen.
“Told her she had to make a choice,” Angel stated simply. “That she had to make the choice to be a new person.”
“Think she wants to? Do you see the potential for change in her?”
“I do. She’s got a soul. She has a conscience. That’s half the battle right there. Now all that’s needed is the will. Given some time, I think she can right the ship. I think she can become a Slayer again, and a damn good one, I might add.”
“Well,” Cordelia smiled, “she’s got the right guy in her corner to show how it’s done.” The hand she rested over his made Angel’s blood temperature rise. Neat trick since he had no body heat. He was gathering the courage to say something when he heard some light arguing coming from the couch.
“This movie is so stupid,” Faith stated. “Lemme get this straight. The husband kills the wife and goes to jail. His overbearing parents and the dead woman’s parents get into a custody battle over the infant granddaughter. Now the murderer dude is trying to bribe everyone in an attempt to get off the hook. Who came up with this plot?”
“It’s based on a true story,” Adele answered.
Faith merely shook her head. “I can’t believe people actually watch this.”
“I’m not exactly a person. If you don’t like the movie, then read a book.” Adele pointed over to her bookshelf.
“Or,” Faith suggested, “you can change the channel to AMC so I can watch some old George Burns and Gracie Allen shorts.”
“How about you bite me?”
“You’d probably like that, lesbo. Although, I admit, I am intrigued by the possibility. You ready for a little girl on girl action, bitch?”
“I always am, cunt!”
Angel arrived just in time to reach over the back of the couch and yank Adele away from a rapidly angering Slayer. Adele bucked and writhed in his arms, but Angel held tight until she simmered down. Faith was standing on the couch cushions and looked about ready to leap into action. The stern glare Angel sent her changed Faith’s mind.
“I want you both to fucking cool it!” Angel yelled. He grabbed a fistful of Adele’s hair and forced her to look at him. “You understand me?” Adele reluctantly nodded.
To Faith he shouted, “Do you understand me?” Faith too nodded. “Good! Because I won’t have any of this bullshit! You both are too good for this! You two will get along, no argument. You know why? Because I can take you both out in a heartbeat if you don’t! Do you believe that?” Both seemingly did. Angel let loose of Adele. “Fine. Now watch the fucking movie in peace or I won’t make either of you pancakes ever again.”
Both did their best to look petulant and obedient. Faith slunk back down in the corner of the couch while Adele slipped over the back and sat on the other end. The station was changed to a middle ground in the form of Pop-Up Video. The situation momentarily diffused, Angel was about to go back into the kitchen and finish his blood when the doorbell rang. Motioning that he would get it while he was up, Angel opened the door and was surprised by who he saw.
“Buffy?”
His ex-girlfriend stood in the hallway wearing an expression Angel hadn’t seen on her before. It was cool, passive, and more than slightly unnerving. And with that calm exterior seemed to come a no nonsense approach.
“I know Faith is here,” Buffy informed. “I know she is here and I am not going back to Giles without her unconscious and draped over my shoulder.”
In response, Angel blurted the first statement that popped into his mind.
“Then I guess we have a problem.”
***
“Will you stop fiddling with the blasted radio?” Ian admonished.
Douglas shot him an annoyed look and flipped off the car stereo altogether. Ian couldn’t wait for James to return from his reconnaissance of the apartment so he could get out of this car and away from the annoying newbie.
“Can I help it all they play in America is this ridiculous Bridget Spears?”
“Britney.”
“Whatever. Point is, they should play some bleeding Beatles once in a while. Or King Crimson.”
Ian decided that upon returning to England he should request a meeting with Charles Button, Head of Tactical Operations, about the possibilities of reassigning Douglas to another sector. Or perhaps it would be simpler to have the bastard stand in front of the car while Ian put the vehicle into gear.
He wondered what Hertz’s policy was regarding killing associates with rented vehicles. Ian cursed loudly in surprise when James tapped on the window. Rolling it down he asked…
“Well?”
“There are three entry points to the building,” James began. He leaned down to window level and pointed up at the apartment complex. “Front entrance of course with adjacent common stairwell. There is then the emergency fire stairwell attached to the building’s west wall. And finally, a roof access point. How do you want to play this?”
“I’ll enter from the front,” Ian began, “and force them to the emergency stairwell. James, you wait at the bottom and move up once they start to flee. We drive them up to the roof where Douglas will be waiting in ambush. Angelus, from the recent Watcher’s accounts of Rupert Giles, fancies himself a bit of a hero. We take the fight outside into the daylight and he is removed from the equation. We get everyone up onto the rooftop and then we take them out. Is that acceptable?”
James snapped off a professional “Yes sir.” Douglas sighed and quipped “Whatever.” Ian popped the trunk of the car so that everyone could grab weapons. Stakes and silenced Walther pistols went to Ian and James. Douglas eagerly took the M9K silenced assault rifle.
“Get up onto the roof,” Ian ordered to Douglas. “I want to execute in 10 minutes.”
Douglas grinned and trotted off with his new play toy. James then asked the very question Ian had been pondering.
“How smart is it to give him a machine gun?”
“I’d say not very. Too late now.” Ian extended his hand, which James graciously accepted. “Good luck. May God be with you.”